There was nothing.
A black space, unchanged. A bed. A table.
Verrith lay on the bed, eyes open, staring into the dark. He wasn't surprised. He rarely was.
One of these dreams again.
He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. No sound followed the movement. There was no sensation either—just the act itself.
The table stood where it always did.
He walked over and looked down.
Words were already there.
[WHY…?]
He stared at them for a moment longer than usual.
'…Yeah. I'm too tired for this,' he thought.
He stepped back.
He looked at his hands. Black. Completely stained. He didn't bother trying to wipe them this time.
Past the table, something else had formed.
A mirror.
He walked toward it, already expecting what he'd see.
Verrith stopped in front of the mirror.
The reflection, suspended in black, showed an image of himself that had no mouth, pure black skin and an expression that couldn't be read.
Text appeared slowly across the glass.
[IT'S NOT ME.]
The letters trembled, then thinned.
[NO—]
The line erased itself halfway through.
A second line replaced it.
[IT CAN'T BE.]
That too faded.
For a moment, the mirror stayed blank.
Then, faintly:
[IT MUST BE A DIFFERENT ME.]
The mirror went dark.
No text. No reflection.
Just black.
And then the dream faded.
— ✦ —
Verrith's eyes snapped open.
"Still sleepy?" Nesther spoke as she stared at Verrith who had just woken up after sleeping on the common dining place.
Verrith blinked once. Then again.
"…Yeah," he said, voice rough. "Feels like my head's a bit heavy though."
Nesther looked at Verrith studying him for a moment. "The black liquid," she said, "Did you drink too much of it yesterday?"
"I drank about half a mouthful," Verrith muttered, sitting up slowly. The world lagged half a second behind the motion. Annoying, but familiar."Didn't think it'd hit this late."
"It's not meant to," Nesther replied. "Also you were supposed to drink about 2 spoon full, even Rose can only drink about 1 spoon of it before she goes into a deep sleep for about 6 hours, so I'm surprised you even woke up this early today."
That got his attention.
He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. The dream was already slipping away, dissolving into nothing important. Just another dark room. Another almost-thought.
"I guess that makes sense," he said. "But uh… aren't you supposed to finish viewing all the reports about all the problems and then find solutions for them? You've finished it already!?"
Nesther turned toward the door, a bit of irritation in her face,"I'm supposed to categorise them into a graph to calculate what problems we should focus on today and then come up with the solutions by the darkest hour of night so I'm currently on a short break." She said "But I didn't expect to be reminded of my duties by you during my break."
"Oh, my bad." Verrith said, apologising, " but I am wondering how long I have been asleep for?"
"Idk, I just came out in the dining room now, I don't really know when you fell asleep."
"Well the last thing I remember is taking a short break by sitting in the common dining place after I have my report, you know of the dead man." Verrith replied.
"Then in that case, 3 hours, give or take." Nesther replied as she opened a large wooden container containing water, taking a glass and scooping a cup of water.
"Well gotta go and figure out how to deal with the sleep deprivation problem that every scout or expedition member has been facing so I gotta go."
"Can't you give them the same thing you gave me?" Verrith asked
"Nope, that thing is quite rare and is so strong that we sometimes use it to execute the prisoners, only a couple people with soul's interpretation can handle that and even then if you aren't born with the right interpretation, your body won't be strong enough to handle it." Nesther replied, taking the glass of water and heading back.
'Ah… right I'm not entirely at the level of a standard person, I shouldn't apply all my solutions to their problems' Verrith though standing up, trying to get some energy to finish up some training.
— ✦ —
The room smelled faintly bitter.
Not rot. Not blood. Something herbal—sharp enough to sting the nose, dull enough to linger.
The intruder lay on the narrow cot, his body wrapped in layered bandages the color of dried leaves. They were tight in places, loose in others, overlapping with uneven care that suggested speed over comfort. Dark stains had soaked through near his ribs and shoulder, already drying.
These bandages made of the leaves of Noxtorn and an ointment and some disinfectant caused the smell which took him a while to adjust to.
Soon his breathing was calm.
Slow. Controlled.
A single lamp hung above him, its light low and deliberate, casting long shadows that clung to the walls.
The curtain shifted.
A man with white hair stepped in.
"You're awake," the white-haired man said calmly.
One eye opened beneath the bandages.
"…Unfortunately yeah," the intruder replied, his voice rough but intact.
"That's an improvement," the man said, already pulling on gloves.
He checked the bandages first, fingers pressing lightly along the edges, then moved to the intruder's face. He tilted the man's chin upward, examining his mouth.
"Hm," he murmured. "Teeth are fine."
Ron frowned. "Already?"
"Ron, they were chipped quite a bit." the white-haired man said. "Thankfully they've fully healed. Clean regrowth."
Ron let out a slow breath. "Great. At least my face decided to cooperate."
The man straightened and pulled a stool closer, sitting beside the cot. "You were lucky."
Ron turned his head slightly. "That's not the word I'd use."
"Often not, being lucky is not really too conforming, well for us at least." the doctor replied. "At times it just feels like surviving with more responsibilities."
Silence lingered, broken only by the faint hum of the lamp.
"So," Ron said at last, "anything new? After the stone got stolen back from us?"
The white-haired man nodded once. "Yep, that son of bi**h allowed us to properly disguise and info gathering skills now."
Ron's jaw tightened.
"After the fact," he muttered.
"You're allowed to proceed," the doctor continued evenly. "Disguises. Information gathering. No direct engagement."
Ron laughed under his breath. "Of course."
He shifted slightly on the cot, letting out a short laugh that carried no humor.
"We're sent to steal the white stone," he said, irritation bleeding into his voice, "and they tie both our hands behind our backs. No groundwork. No proper plan, no leverage."
The doctor remained silent.
"And the best part?" Ron went on. "We're only allowed one distraction. One. At the end."
He scoffed. "As if that helps when we've already been crawling blind through the whole thing."
"The restrictions are deliberate," the white haired man said.
"Yeah, well, he's stupid," Ron snapped. "Limited movement. Limited tools. Limited exits. And if it goes wrong, we're expected to disappear quietly."
He exhaled sharply, then stopped himself.
Silence returned.
After a moment, Ron lifted a hand and pressed his fingers lightly against the side of his neck. Just below the jawline, beneath the bandages, a small scar lingered—thin, clean, and old.
He traced it once.
"…Doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Complaining won't change the past, at least we can at least set some ground work for any things that we are forced to do by the 'request' of him."
The white-haired man watched him for a second, then stood.
"You're alive," he said. "And I think that's enough motivation to work harder, maybe we'll finally escape his cage."
Ron nodded faintly.
"Yeah," he replied. "I sure do hope so…thanks Cale, for helping us,"
Cale adjusted the lamp, dimming it further. "Rest. Once the bandages settle, you can move."
He turned to leave but then turned back asking a question, "Forgot to ask but how long has it been since the stone was taken?"
"About 29-31hours give or take" Cale replied
Hearing the reply Ron moved ahead and saw a person sleeping in the door outside, probably from waiting for him to wake up.
The person sleeping had green short hair and was much shorter than Ron being about 5ft 4 and wore clothes that covered every part of his body except his face.
"Wake up Greenet, Call Eli, we are gonna infiltrate soon." Ron said, shaking him awake.
"Huh…uh…." He muttered, still half asleep, "Uh…sure give me a minute…"
He said as he began to sleep again.
"Forget it, I'll get her myself." Ron said as he let out a sigh
— ✦ —
"So why do we need to do this?" Tervain muttered as he was forced to spar with a group of people.
"Look we need someone good to spar with these veterans and new scouts and since you're an undead you won't die if an accident happens." Sky replied as he was reading a report observing the veterans learn team coordination as they began to train.
While on the side of Tervain you could see his blood and small bits of his flesh and bits of his broken armour everywhere on the field.
'Honestly feels a bit disgusting but this is good training to improve these guys' team coordination, experience and their ability to handle disgusting things all at the same time so I hope they don't complain.'
As Sky thought that, a strike took Tervain's shoulder off.
Not cleanly.
The blade dragged through metal first — cracking the plate — before sinking into what was underneath.
The smell came a second later.
Not fresh blood.
Something older.
Something that shouldn't be warm.
Tervain's arm detached under its own weight and fell to the dirt with a wet so the arm dropped with a wet thud.
There was a short, stunned silence.
"…Ah," Tervain said lightly. "Okay. That stings."
The veteran holding the sword froze.
"I—"
"It's fine," Tervain said quickly. "You're supposed to do that."
He bent down, picked up his arm, and tried to slot it back into place.
The flesh at his shoulder twitched.
It didn't knit together smoothly. It pulled inward in uneven strands, darker tissue dragging itself across the gap. The color wasn't right — a muted, greyed red with faint green undertones near the edges.
It didn't align properly the first time.
"…Hang on." He said tearing his arm that had been healing.
He rotated it slightly. The muscle fibers slowly pulled themselves together with a faint, uncomfortable sound.
A few of the newer scouts looked pale.
Tervain noticed.
"…Right. Sorry."
When he pressed it back into place, the connection sealed slowly, the skin reforming in patches that didn't quite match. A faint line remained where it had separated — not a scar, just an uneven seam.
He flexed his fingers.
"Still works."
He brushed at his chest plate, which had split down the side from the impact. The metal had cracked outward, exposing the torn rotten flesh underneath before it finished sealing.
He adjusted the broken plate back into position, as if that helped.
"I usually keep this on so it's less… visual," he said, tapping the damaged armor lightly. "Didn't think it'd break that fast."
Sky stood a few meters away, holding a thin stack of reports.
"Continue," he said calmly. "Don't stop because he fell apart."
The veterans hesitated.
Tervain raised both hands in surrender.
"You guys can listen to him, I'm okay with this." Tervain said as he put a thumbs up
A few of them exchanged uncertain looks.
Sky spoke again, voice even.
"If this unsettles you, imagine an actual battlefield. Move."
That did it.
They advanced again — clumsy, slightly uncoordinated. Their spacing was off. One moved too early, another too late.
Tervain tried to block.
He wasn't very good at it.
His stance wobbled under pressure. A spear slipped past his guard and pierced clean through his side.
But the resistance was wrong.
Not the tension of living muscles. Softer. Uneven.
The soldier holding it visibly shuddered.
Tervain looked down at the weapon embedded in him.
"…That one's definitely going to bruise."
It didn't. The wound was already closing.
The flesh around the spear shaft tightened, then began pulling inward even before the weapon was removed. When the soldier instinctively let go, Tervain had to pull it out himself.
The surface closed, but the coloration remained off — duller than before, faintly mottled.
His armor, however, now had a clean hole through the center.
He stared at it.
"…I just got this fitted."
The smell intensified briefly.
Another one of the newer scouts turned fully away this time and vomited near the edge of the field.
"Don't drop your weapon," Sky said immediately. "If you commit, follow through."
The veteran swallowed and retrieved it.
One of the scouts stared openly at the exposed rotten flesh knitting together beneath the broken metal.
Tervain noticed again.
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
He picked the broken small shards of metal on the ground and began to stuff it in the hole trying to cover it up.
"I know it's not… pleasant." He said letting out a small laugh at the end.
Sky finally lowered the papers.
"Focus on spacing," he instructed the veterans. "You're crowding each other. You're relying on his durability instead of building structure."
The group corrected their formation.
This time they moved together.
A blade clipped Tervain's thigh. Another strike dented his already fractured shoulder guard. A third knocked him backward into the dirt.
He landed flat.
"…Ow," he said again, staring at the sky. "I feel like I should be learning something from this."
"You are," Sky replied. "You're learning that your guard is terrible."
"That too."
His ribs shifted audibly back into place under skin that didn't quite look alive.
One of the veterans forced himself forward and completed the final strike pattern.
It landed.
Tervain's torso twisted unnaturally before correcting itself.
Then he sat up.
"But even if you say that, I feel like I should be improving," he said cheerfully.
No one answered.
The metallic tang in the air was layered now with something faintly sour.
Tervain noticed the distance the group was keeping from him.
He looked down at his cracked chest plate, at the darkened stains seeping slowly into the dirt.
"…That's why I wear this," he said, tapping the ruined armor. "It's better when you can't see most of it."
Sky closed the report.
"That's enough."
The veterans stepped back quickly, some breathing through their mouths.
Tervain stood slowly.
A small fragment of something — flesh, maybe — slipped from beneath the broken plate and dropped near his boot.
He stared at it.
"…Ah."
He crouched and picked it up before anyone else had to look at it too long.
"…I might need to borrow tools," he said.
"No replacements," Sky replied immediately.
"I wasn't asking for a new one."
A pause.
"…Okay, maybe I was thinking about it."
Sky looked at him evenly.
"You wear it because you think it makes others more comfortable."
Tervain didn't answer at first.
Then he shrugged lightly.
"I mean… yeah."
He glanced toward the veterans, who were still trying not to stare at the darker patches where his blood had soaked into the dirt.
"I haven't been here much and I thought I should not make our meetings unpleasant."
One of the scouts coughed awkwardly.
"Repair it yourself," Sky said. "If you're staying, you might as well learn maintenance."
Tervain sighed.
"That's a rude way to say, 'I'm too lazy'" He said smiling
And for the first time, the veterans didn't look quite as tense standing near him.
"Well, I'm finished reading this report so let me just report to the IGS to drop this off" Sky said as he began to walk away.
"The IGS?" Tervain spoke confused.
"Oh, it stands for information gathering service, basically handles things like murder cases, judgement of crimes and is responsible for managing the scouts and providing information for the overall benefit for the kingdom, I took this report of the agricultural situation after requesting it from them and while I'm not obliged to return this I thought that I might as well go there."
"That's a lot of yapping."
"Excuse me?" Sky said, a bit offended at Tervian words, "weren't you the one who requested this info from me?"
"Yeah but it's still a yap."
"Do you even know what that means?"
"Oh, yeah I know," Tervian said, easing his hands excessively, "it means long conversations where you have no idea what it means."
"Close…but still a bit incorrect, it means to talk excessively in an irritating manner but its original meaning was to give a sharp, shrill bark."
"Oh, and how did it lose its original meaning?"
"…." Sky stood silent and turned away
"Hey? Hey?" Tervain said as he saw Sky slowly heading out, "Hey! You still haven't answered my question."
But it was as if Sky didn't even acknowledge he heard anything and quickened his steps.